Burning Blue
by Loveforthestory
Summary: It's far after midnight. She tries to soak up an almost non existing breeze , when she hears his low, hoarse voice behind her. 'Enjoying yourself' There is an almost crude vibration in his voice. He watches her. He waits. He should be inside, talking to that blonde who obviously wants him inside her damn bed. But he is here. Outside. With her.


Burning blue

It's summer in Texas. The fabric of her deep blue tank is playing with the salty warmth of her skin. It has been a long day. She needs a drink. She finds a quiet place at the bar. It's a slow evening when some asshole tries to impress her with his bullshit stories. Stories she is not in the mood for. It's summer in Texas. It's too hot for his bullshit.

He is kind of cute. But she is still not interested. He's too eager. Too young. Too much of something, not enough of something else. But he wants to buy her a drink and she _is_ a Matheson.

She was there when he walked into the bar. She is still there. He is drinking. Alone. There is a glass of whiskey in his hand. He lets the whiskey swirl in his glass. He could not listen to Miles' pathetic bitching and whining any longer. He doesn't know what happened to his best friend and brother, but he did know he needed a drink. He should not be watching her _. He is._

He watches how some loser asshole sits down next to her. He already had to watch how that son of a bitch has been looking at her ass from across the bar before he walked over to her. Bass feels something shift in his damn gut when she answers one of his questions.

They are sitting too far away to hear what she is saying. But the way he is looking at Charlie and Charlie has not told him to go to hell yet, irritates him. The asshole is obviously trying to get into her pants. It's pathetic too see how hard he is trying. The sudden irritation fills his jaws. His blood. It makes his muscles tense with every second he is looking at her and the way her deep blonde curls play with her back.

 _Dammit_. A low growl escapes from his mouth when he moves his glass to his lips. The whiskey is burning in the back of his throat in the same way the sun scorches the Texan landscape. There is something happening in those blue eyes of her. She is letting him buy her that drink. But at the same time she is looking at him like he is her next prey.

His cock stirs when her mouth turns into that smile of hers that contains so much Matheson mockery that he almost has to look away.

Bass focuses on his whiskey again. But his eyes filled with dark focus, are on her. He orders another drink. Convincing his cock he just needs to fuck. Someone. Anyone. Not her. Hell. Not Charlie. But with every minute he has to look at the asshole _close to her_ , his hands are aching more and more with wanting to snap the asshole's neck.

He should not give a shit about who she fucks. Problem is, he does. Not just because she is hot as fuck. Strong. Loyal. A fighter. But because she can tell him he can go to hell with that hot mouth of hers and yet, at the same time she saved his ass, more than once. It messes with his head, and cock.

He curses. Again. It's a slow hot night in Texas. He orders another drink. He is going to need it.

* * *

It's far after midnight when she tries to soak up an almost non existing breeze , when she hears his low, hoarse voice behind her.

'Enjoying yourself?' There is a crude vibration in his voice.

She stops and before she turns around she closes her eyes for a second. Heated irritation starts to build up inside of her in the shadow of the brick wall of the bar.

He watches her. He waits. He should be inside, talking to that blonde who obviously wants him inside her damn bed. But he is here. Outside. _With her._ And hell, she is not walking away. From him.

Her eyes are filled with annoyed loathing when she turns to meet his eyes and him. He has followed her to the small alley next to the bar where she came to get some air before she would order herself another drink and decide where this night would take her. There is smugness in his eyes. His hand is on the hilt of his sword. He could be inside, drinking. He could be fucking that blonde who has been trying to get him to take her home all night.

She is slowly realizing that. But Monroe is here. With her. Close enough to hear him breathe and feel his hot whiskey breath on her face.

They look at each other. The smug deep, _too deep,_ her mind warns her, burning blue of his eyes she knows so well by now is meeting the annoyed deep blue in hers. But something is happening low inside her belly. Something is shifting. _Burning._

His eyes roam over her full lips for one second in a way only Monroe can. She needs him to go to hell. No. She needs him to leave her alone and then go to hell. Her hand is on its way to the knife close and against her hip to tell him how much he can go to hell.

The arrogant movement of his mouth on its way to an amused smile is making her even more pissed.

He knows her hand is on its way to her knife. And hell, his cock knows too, twitching in his damn pants. He knows she always carries it with her, even in this _small boring nothing ever the hell happens here_ town. He is aware of the tension in her shoulders and arm. He is aware of her breath that comes in forceful waves now.

The way she never ever stops being her even when he is towering over her, makes him hard. His dick responds to her when she looks at him without blinking.

'What do you want, Monroe.?' Her voice is flat.

'That boring asshole you were talking to inside?' His eyes burn with cool steel when he moves his mouth close to her ear. 'You can do so much better than him.'

His voice brushes her skin like smouldering fire. His warm breath moves over her ear and jaw.

She looks straight at him. 'You think whispering shit like that in my ear is going to work?'

His breathing is heavy in his chest. It's her trying to convince herself, _and him_ , that nothing is happening, here, _in the past_ , that makes him finally give in and that makes him snap and loose and take control all at the same time. There is a cool dangerous curve of his lips. He is burning with the knowledge she has seen it.

Every single fucking moment of frustration when it comes to her makes him push her against the wall behind her with a force that makes her dizzy and that fills her with heated wet need. His wide muscled thigh between her legs is too close to the place where her jeans hides how wet he makes her. His large left hand lands on the wall next to her head.

She is trapped between man and wall. Monroe's body is tall and wide and strong. Hard. Dangerous. The moment he pushes her harder against the wall, she can feel his cock against her belly.

His hand is slowly claiming her hip when it is moving over her skin and under her tank. His fingers explore her. Fingers she knows so well by now, fingers she has seen wrapped around guns, swords and throats, are now on their way to her breasts.

'You tell me, charlotte.' He slowly brushes some hair out of her face with his free hand. He adds more force to the way her body is meeting hers. Showing her how much he wants her, hidden and out of sight in the shelter of the darkness close to the wall, when his dick presses into the smooth skin of her belly with more force.

She takes in the man before her. He smells like him. Like fight and life and sweat and whiskey. Her eyes roam over his beard. Over his strong lips. Over the lines next to his eyes and to proud lines of his muscled neck. Tanned skin. Smooth sweat.

And she should stop. This. Whatever it is. But her arms move around his shoulders. Giving him permission to take her. Her mouth is eager to taste him. His mouth is hard hunger against her lips. His breath hot. His hands grasp her middle with a force that will leave bruises. His curls at the nape of his neck brush the Monroe mark on her wrist. His eyes demand hers.

He curses. He repeats her name in his fucking head over and over again. He needs to fuck her. Taste her. Show her what he can do. _Will d_ o. He needs to fuck her right fucking here because all there is right now is her. Against this wall. Wet. Angry. Wanting, needing him. He curses again when he can make her moan by pushing his cock against her. Trapped between that damn wall and his body. He can smell her. He needs _her_.

It's violent and fast. It's anger and lust. And when the Texan summer night moves little drops of sweat over her breasts and nothing else exists but his demanding mouth over hers, she knows what it's like to feel Sebastian Monroe inside of her. And a low hoarse moan escapes from her mouth that he hungrily catches with his hot mouth and another thrust deep inside of her.

* * *

 **Author's Note** **A while ago I organized some very chaotic files on my laptop. I found a lot of ideas and unfinished stories and this one shot, is one of them. Written for summer. Written for Revolution and this is my piece for the GSC Summer Lovin' fan fic event. Thank you for adding more Revo love to my day to you and for organzing this event! And a thank you to threemagpies for her support while I was working on this piece. And because summer is such a great time to write, I am currently also working on another piece for another event, a AU piece called 'City Breeze' (Connor and Charlie). After that story I want to return to 'The scent of the ocean in her hair' because I really need a bit of the ocean this summer. I wish you a wonderful summer with a lot of stories!** **Love from Love**


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